


One Little Sip of You

by safarialuna



Series: Pornalot 2018 [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Banter, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Merlin Bakes Things, Mutual Pining, Mutual Pining without Knowing, Oblivious Merlin, Pining Arthur, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Pornalot, Pornalot 2018, Potions, Potions Accident?, Sexual Fantasy, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-19 09:56:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16532321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/safarialuna/pseuds/safarialuna
Summary: In which Merlin drinks a potion that brings him straight into his ultimate fantasy.Pornalot 2018 Week 2 Challenge: Fantasy





	One Little Sip of You

Everyone steals paperclips from work. Maybe even a little pad of sticky notes.

_Fantasy_ , the potion bottle read. 

He didn’t know specifics. He knew it was expensive—he’d sold enough to ritzy establishments. He knew his plonker of a boss had tried it—he’d lorded it over Merlin so many fucking times Merlin had swiped one himself and was sitting on a toilet at work about to suck it dry. 

His phone vibrated.

_Anymore apple pie?_

Ever since Merlin had been baking biscuits and pies on a whim, his boss wanted to sample anything Merlin had brought to work. 

Merlin had started to bring extra slices for fuck’s sake. For his boss who made him redo all the sales reports at least three times and rewrite contracts he’d approved the week before. It was wonderful, of course, someone appreciating his baking.

Today he could piss off. 

_I’m a free man on break. Eat a carrot._

Merlin punched out the reply, uncorked the bottle, and downed the liquid.

Strange. It tasted like apples.

Merlin blinked. 

He was no longer sitting on a toilet, but on the edge of a plush bed with red, velvety blankets. He’d been here before—it was one of the rooms he’d toured inside a castle in Wales. Except now it looked fully furnished and lived in.

Not bad so far. 

“Merlin, come here,” a voice purred behind him. “You wanted to see my leather belt?”

He recognised that voice. 

Merlin rested his elbow on the bed and leaned back, finding his uptight boss in all his naked glory. 

Which was fine, Merlin supposed. But of all of the sodding fantasies in his mind, his _boss_? _Really_? This was the same arse who insisted Merlin organise highlighters by rainbow colour order in his desk drawer or face extreme disciplinary measures.

Merlin had never wanked to his boss before. Except those days when Arthur would come in with those black leather pants. That was completely out of his hands.

Fantasy-Arthur locked eyes with him and Merlin’s thoughts hit a metaphoric concrete wall and bits of brain went flying. 

Arthur had smiled. Was still smiling. Not a barely restrained smile of pain or of poorly concealed impatience at his idiocy that he was well accustomed to. 

A genuine smile—a lover’s smile. Like they’d fucked a thousand times and Arthur was ready for more. 

_What the hell._

*

A minute later Merlin found his hands tied up above him by that damn leather belt. Arthur was between his legs, leaning down. 

Okay. He was starting to get this Arthur fantasy now. Because he was rock hard and when Arthur wrapped his lips around Merlin, his fingers teasing Merlin’s arse, he cried out.

“ _Fuck!_ ” He looked down his stomach and watched in amazement as Arthur took the whole length of him. 

Merlin took a shuddering breath and grasped the leather tighter.

“Arthur,” Merlin whispered, his vision going blurry. “I can’t—I’m not going to last—”

Arthur stopped. Merlin felt a thrill of anticipation as their eyes met. He crawled up to Merlin’s side, his lips hovered over Merlin’s, his fringe brushing Merlin’s forehead.

This couldn’t be a fantasy—not if Merlin’s heart was cracking like thin ice under an elephant as he realised he was pretty fucked when it came to the real Arthur.

Arthur whispered in his ear, “Do you want to last?”

Merlin laughed. “In truth,” he said, looking down pointedly, “I want to be thoroughly fucked.”

Arthur slid back down. He raised both eyebrows. “We both know what your fantasy is, Merlin.” 

“What—”

Arthur gripped Merlin’s shoulder with one hand, the other closing around Merlin’s pulsing cock firmly, guiding it into his hole, wet and wanting.

Merlin’s heart started pounding like a war drum and he gasped the moment the tip of him went inside Arthur. 

“Merlin!” He heard a voice. “I see your bloody Barker shoes under there!” 

Merlin woke with a start. He was still in the loo, on the toilet seat. Arthur—the real one—was on his hands and knees outside the door and Merlin was ready to hang stockings on his cock it was so hard. 

Before Merlin could say anything, Arthur slammed into the door and it burst open. Arthur was breathing heavily and his eyes zeroed in on Merlin’s cock straining beneath his trousers. “What are you doing? Break’s over.”

Merlin shot up. His face must have been purple. “Are you out of your fucking mind? Why would you break open the door like a deranged bull?”

“You didn’t answer,” Arthur shouted back. “I needed to know if you were okay.”

Merlin rolled his eyes. _Now_ Arthur showed concern. Brilliant. “I’m not dying on the toilet.” He sat back down and tried to tug his jumper down over the bulge. 

Arthur crossed his arms and stuck up his chin, like his voice hadn’t just been cracking in concern over Merlin and his hard cock. “Fantastic.”

Merlin studied his shoes. “Fantastic would not be the word I’d use to describe this situation.”

“Terrible, then,” Arthur offered. 

“Better.”

“I’d ask, but I don’t want to know.”

“Two slices of my best peach pie tomorrow.”

“What?”

“Two slices, and you’ll never speak of this. Or text it to your friends or post it on the most narcissistic Twitter feed in existence.” Which Merlin had the great dignity of following. With notifications. 

Silence. Merlin cleared his throat and looked up at Arthur. “Please?”

Arthur’s gaze slid down Merlin’s body and Merlin vividly remembered that same intensity burning in Fantasy-Arthur’s eyes as he'd let Merlin fuck him. Or had been _about_ to. 

Arthur bent down and picked up the bottle Merlin thought had vanished—a drip of green liquid still clung to the rim. He cocked his head. Then, the heat flickered away and he smiled—only a trace of what Merlin had seen in his fantasy—but it melted Merlin’s insides nonetheless.

“Merlin, I think this warrants a whole fucking pie.”


End file.
